Grace
by ilarual
Summary: Reverb 2015. Black*Star and Tsubaki danced together as children, but his deepening association with the Star Clan and their crimes drove a wedge between them. Years later, he reappears in her life, Tsubaki can't help but welcome him back, both as a friend and as a dance partner. But is that really such a good idea? TsuStar ballet AU... with a twist.
1. Reunion

**A/N-** And here we have it, folks, my final project for Reverb 2015. This was a collaboration with Professor Maka that we wrote, inspired by the art of our partner Ang, who goes by absolutrash on Tumblr. She conceived a Black*Star "bad boy of ballet" AU, and this is the result. The cover art is, of course, her work, and I'll be posting a link to her art in my profile once she's got it posted.

One last thing before we get on to the story. I'm sure you're all sick of hearing this from me, but it's currently the sign up period for Resbang 2015. There's a link to some information about the event on my profile, so if you're at all interested in writing, making art, or getting to know a whole bunch of new people, consider checking it out, maybe? All ships, characters, and genres are welcome. Sign ups end at midnight (U.S. Eastern Time) on August 1st, so you've only got two more days as of this posting if you wanna participate.

* * *

There was a time when forgetting his birthday would have been impossible; when he was 14 and she was 15 and she feared the feelings she had for her coarse, brash, wild dance partner went beyond the bonds of camaraderie. Tsubaki missed those days, before he'd told her dance was for "fucking pansy asses" and left her in the lurch, her chance to audition for the performing arts high school lost. Before he'd taken up with the Star Clan and gotten his ass thrown in jail. Before he was "Black*Star" and had simply been Blake.

Now, as she faced him in the middle of the crowded street, she wondered when he'd gotten taller than her so that she had to look just slightly up to meet his gaze, when he'd gotten so hard with his gang tattoo on his bicep and his face rough with brown stubble, when the boy she had known had become the stranger before her now. He wasn't Blake Starkey, she reminded herself again, not anymore. He was Black*Star, and today was his eighteenth birthday.

Today was the day he'd been released from juvenile detention, his slate wiped clean.

Today he made his final choice.

Maybe be could walk a better path. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest as he grinned down at her, his smile as infectious as ever. Maybe he could still choose to do more with himself, could reject his legacy and hers, could be something else, something more than a common thug. Maybe she could help him to make a better choice.

She hoped she could.

Taking a steadying breath, she smiled back softly. "Happy Birthday, Blake. It's-been awhile."

"Well, they couldn't keep a god down forever!" His grin widened. "That place was small change, so they let me go."

She sighed, smile faltering. "Because you turned 18."

"Yeah, whatever, minor details are for weaklings." He waved a dismissive hand for emphasis. "Anyway, 'Baki, it's good to see you." He looked a bit less sure for a moment, a bit more hesitant, though it didn't last. Blake never _had_ been one for hesitation. " _Really_ good."

"Yeah, it's good to see you, too, Blake." Her smile was back, if a little forced. She, on the other hand, always had been the cautious one.

" _Black*Star_ ," he corrected.

She chose not to comment, instead nodding once in acknowledgment. Did this mean he'd already decided to return to the Clan? Or simply that he preferred the moniker? Taking in his appearance again-toned, tanned, hair dyed an eye searing electric blue, dressed in basketball shorts and a wife beater that said "Kiss Me, I'm Japanese," old ratty backpack slung casually over one shoulder, she just couldn't tell. Well, she needed to find out if she was going to have a chance to change his mind, and she wouldn't be able to do it standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"So, um-Black*Star? I was just going to get some lunch. I'd-well, I'd love you to join me, buy you lunch for your birthday and catch up. I mean, if you've got something else to do, I'd understand, of course, but-"

"'Baki," he held up a hand, grin so wide it was blinding. "I just got outta lockup. I got nowhere else to be."

"So that's a-yes?"

"'Course it is-lunch with my all time favorite minion is always gonna be a fuck yeah!"

"Great!" she exclaimed, and her own enthusiasm was genuine, heart speeding again unbidden.

She really had missed him.

Twenty minutes later, they were settled into the little cafe next to the dance studio she taught at part time, a portion of her pay coming in the form of coaching from the owner. They used to dance there together, and Tsubaki didn't miss his leary glance at the other door before they'd entered the restaurant. She'd chosen this place because it was nostalgic, because they'd both loved it once upon a dream, and because it she had a class to teach in an hour. She was missing her practice time, but one day of lost practice was well worth it if she could regain a friend; she ignored the whisper in the back of her mind that it had been some time since she had only wanted to be friends.

He was no good for her and she knew it. He was walking the same path her brother had, and she hadn't been able to save him-why should this be different? Even a friendship had to be predicated on him having left the Clan behind, she decided.

Her heart didn't seem to agree as it sped imperceptibly when their fingers brushed in the bread basket and he grinned at her only a little sheepishly when she insisted he take the last piece.

It didn't take long to learn what she'd missed the last three years of his life over bread and salad. He wasn't exactly open, but he'd always liked talking about himself, and much of it she knew already from rumors and mutual friends anyway, so she was well able to fill in the blanks. He'd stopped dancing when he joined the Clan, and she'd stopped talking to him after practically begging him to reconsider, unable to watch another walk that path. From there petty crimes became bigger crimes, and when he got caught stealing a car at 16, he'd gone to juvie.

He'd gotten into fights in juvie. A lot of fights. He'd also cut ties with any remaining friends who weren't Clan.

"I was the biggest star there, 'course, but it was…" he trailed off, scratching the back of his head with one hand as he shoved down another breadstick with the other, filling the sudden silence with his loud chewing. He swallowed and shook his head. "Well, I guess after about a year and fighting my way to the top of the pile-I realized I sorta missed my loyal followers."

His loyal followers- _-their_ friends. She felt a lump in her throat. Every one of them had tried to keep ties with him after he'd been thrown in jail, and he'd chased them all off. Even Maka, who he'd known since they were in diapers and who he'd always called his oldest follower, who was so stubborn she'd kept trying to see him for months, precious wasted study time when he refused to attend visiting hours, before finally giving up when her grades threatened to start slipping.

She heard about him from all of them, even if she refused to see him herself. Maybe she should have. Maybe she should have remained his friend when he stopped dancing and joined the Clan. Maybe she could have-done _something_ to change things.

Guilt clawed at her insides, threatening to rend her. She'd been here before, but this time it felt different- _he_ was different. He wasn't her brother. Maybe she hadn't been able to help Masa, and maybe she had refused to help Blake back then, but she could make a difference now. She _could._

"They'd like to see you, you know. Maybe-"

"So whatcha doin' anyway, Baki," he cut her off before she could complete the thought. "Looks like you're still dancing." She supposed the fact that she had a dance leotard on under her shorts and off shoulder tee must be a dead giveaway, as was the fact she was still carrying the same gym bag she had then.

"Mmm, yes. I was on my way to the studio when I ran into you, actually," she said as she forked her salad absently, not quite meeting his eyes. "I teach the beginners, ballet and modern. It's a good part time job while I take classes at DCCC, and Miss Azusa coaches me as part of my pay and lets me use the practice rooms as much as I want."

"DCCC?" he looked surprised. "Not DCC?"

She colored, stabbing her salad more violently as she mumbled. "There's nothing wrong with community college." Tsubaki had wanted to audition for the conservatory, she really had. Even if he had ruined her chances of getting into the two year performing arts high school that practically guaranteed admission if you graduated, she had still meant to audition for the conservatory when the time came. But Tsubaki had always been better with a partner, playing to the strengths of another so that both could shine, and once he'd abandoned dance and her, she had never been able to replace him, try as she might.

It didn't stop her from practicing. She was honing her solo skills while she attended classes at the community college, hoping they would be enough, but they weren't and she knew it. Even Azusa had confirmed it was unlikely she'd get in-she was simply built for partner work.

She'd never even bothered with an audition.

It was disheartening, but it wouldn't stop her from doing what she loved, even if all she could do was practice and teach beginners. She could transfer to DCU, get a degree in fine arts education. Maybe she couldn't perform, but she could still dance.

She suppressed the usual sinking of spirits at the thought. Maybe she couldn't live her dream, but she _could_ live a shadow of it. It felt fitting, somehow, like she was living up to her name. Tsubaki, the scentless flower… Tsubaki, the eternal bridesmaid of classical dance...

"But-you wanted to be a dancer," he shook his head after a small pause.

Meeting his gaze at his tone, she saw the same confusion lacing his dark green eyes. "I'm still a dancer," she said, sitting a little straighter, a little prouder, unwilling to admit to him what his loss had done. "I'll always be a dancer."

The server saved her from further explanation by setting down two plates, a heaping plate of pasta for him and a portion of fish and rice for her. They ate in less than comfortable silence for a time, her eyes on her food. She'd planned on using this lunch help him, to make a start in steering him away from continuing down the same path he'd started on, but all she'd managed to do was to earn his pity, for surely that had been pity in his eyes.

Pathetic.

"So," he intruded on her thoughts after several minutes, his plate shockingly empty when she raised her eyes. "You got a new partner?"

Surprised by the abruptness of the question- though really, she shouldn't have been, shouldn't have forgotten how blunt he could be- she shook her head. "No," she said honestly. "I mean-I've had other partners, but they never last. None of them quite fit, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," he nodded, voice uncharacteristically quiet, his eyes filled with something oddly like regret. Regret and Blake seemed so at odds that it jolted her, and she shook her head again.

"Um, anyway-I hate to do this, but I have to leave soon. I have a class to teach, then practice, and I know you must-"

"Mind if I come? For old times' sake?" The crooked grin he flashed her was so hopeful she nodded instantly.

"Of course not!" she said brightly, an inkling of an idea hitting her suddenly and forcefully. "Actually, we could maybe practice together after I teach beginning ballet if-" she scanned his face, saw the trepidation there "-I mean, if you have time, I don't mean to-"

His hand was fingering the back of his hair again before his put it back down on the table in front of him, his brief apprehension melting into something fond for the barest instant, before widening into the same brash grin she had always, always loved.

"Always got time for my favorite minion," he declared loudly, earning a few odd stares.

For her part, Tsubaki couldn't help but feel a warmth wash through her, hope and happiness mixt in equal measure as she worked on finishing her meal.

He had changed so much, yet he hadn't changed at all.

And now- _now_ -once again, they would dance.


	2. Irresistible

He didn't know what the fuck he was doing here. Or rather, he thought as he watched her bend over to correct the posture of one of her students, ass out, spine curved enticingly, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing here and it was a really, _really_ bad idea.

Not that he'd ever really given a shit how bad an idea was.

Trying not to fidget or just hop on the floor to start doing push ups in his uncomfortable boredom, trying to strengthen himself in ways he really didn't enjoy, he tapped his fingers on the practice bar impatiently, hoping beyond hope she'd be done with the brats soon and they could get this joke of a "practice" done with so he could move on with his life. She'd wanted nothing to do with him when he ditched dancing and joined the Star Clan officially, hadn't spoken to him more than in passing at a party in the year after that, and hadn't spoken to him at all since he'd gone to prison. That wasn't gonna change just because he was out. She probably thought he was done with it, but fuck that. Star Clan was his legacy, the gang started by that piece of shit who was his bio dad, and he was gonna be the top fucking dog one day. Fucking the boss' sister wasn't gonna help that, and she wasn't gonna be into it anyway if he was caught up in the shit, so this was a last hurrah-for her, of course, because she'd looked so damned sad— and then it was on to bigger and better shit, time to become the god he was fucking born to be.

A rising god couldn't be bogged down with minions anyway, not really, not the truly loyal kind. He'd had to cut them all off when he was idiot enough to get caught— a god lifted people up, he didn't drag them the fuck down. Soul had tried and Maka had tried and even Kid had tried to visit him and write to him and talk to him and help him— fucking _help_ him, like he needed their fucking pity. He could manage his own shit. He'd fucked up once, yeah, but gods learned from their mistakes. There wouldn't be a second time, but until he had clawed his way to the top of the heap, he wanted to keep his true followers out of the fray; he wasn't gonna let them get caught up in the backspatter of his climb.

That included _her,_ although she had been the only one with brains enough to get the fuck out the first time.

Or maybe she just didn't give a shit.

Either way. Wouldn't be the first time one of his minions was blind to the light. The path to godhood was fraught with peril, as it were.

One last dance. He'd abandoned her to dance alone. One last dance. She'd always been a good enough follower that she'd more than earned it.

He shoved aside how much he _wanted_ to dance with her, to put his hands on her, feel their connection flowing through him as it had for years, as it had until he'd rejected it. Would he still feel it now, so long after? He couldn't help it— how much he craved it. Dancing had been a freedom of a sort, something so different from anything he had ever known before it that he could— he could just fucking _be_. And just being with her? That had been fucking fantastic.

But gods couldn't just be. Gods had to _fight._

Black*Star was ready for the fight, but this could come first. Two years in prison, two years without his loyal followers, three years without _her_ — and more ahead— he deserved a break, didn't he?

The brats were doing pirouettes now, basic shit. He considered helping out of the sheer need to move, but didn't want to step on her toes, so he grabbed the barre instead, ostensibly to warm up. It'd been years since he'd done a dance warm up, one meant to keep him stretched and limber, rather than a warm up for strength training, but he still remembered, his muscle memory kicking in as he used the barre for support. Refusing to admit how much he'd missed even something so mundane, he instead hopped away from the bar to do a one armed hand stand. Yes, that was more like it. That was how a fucking _god_ warmed up.

Grinning at the gasps from Tsubaki's students, he switched arms, then launched to his feet to execute a back handspring, execute a perfect landing (of course), and bow for his drop jawed audience, satisfied in the clear rise in his follower count.

Tsubaki cleared her throat, shaking her head but also grinning, as she said, "Yes, well, I think it's time to call it a day, boys and girls! Good job everyone, and I'll see you next week. Don't forget to bring the announcement about recital next month to your parents downstairs!" The kids began to chatter, looking at Black*Star with wide eyes as they shuffled past, and in mere moments, the last of them were through the door of the small studio and they were alone.

Just him and Baki. It felt wrong. It felt right. He ignored the pick up in his heart rate because gods didn't get all goopy over a girl, tried not to stare at just how well she filled out a leo, and casually strolled over, wide grin plastered on his face.

"So," he said just as casually. "Ready to dance with a god?"

When she laughed at that, a genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes, holding out her hand in invitation, he couldn't help but to feel that for the first time in a long, long time, all was right with the world.

* * *

All was definitely not right with the world. It was all wrong, all completely, totally, ass end wrong and he had only himself to blame.

Did a pair of night blue eyes and a warm smile have so much power to sway a big star like him? Then again, maybe she was the star after all and he was just the background, the sky that let her shine, because dancing with her again was like coming home and it felt so warm, so good, that he hadn't been able to give it up. So when she'd sat him down at the end of practice, staring at him with those wide blue eyes, and asked him if he was planning to go back to the Clan, he'd said no, lied easily and outright, too afraid to scare her off so soon. And when she'd let out her anxiously held breath and given him that beautiful smile and exclaimed how glad she was, he'd been glad of the lie, so glad he almost wished it were true. And then when she'd suggested maybe they could partner again and try out for the Conservatory in a few months for Spring admission he'd said sure, why the fuck not?

He really was a fucking idiot like his bio dad used to insist when he'd smack him around, back when he was barely out of diapers. He really, really was. What kind of god lied to his loyalest follower, to the one fucking minion who mattered most?

Not a very good one.

Still, he could do this. He could keep her out of the shit, and do what he had to do to get ahead, and when it was done she'd be happy for him 'cause he'd run shit the _right_ way, not like her dirtbag brother.

The same dirtbag brother he was off to meet now.

His phone rang, blaring out the song he'd chosen for her ringtone as they re-exchanged numbers a mere half hour before. _I'm your venus, I'm your fire, pure desire._

She really, really was. He picked up quickly, heedless of the fact he was only a few feet away from the door to the Clan headquarters, slowing his steps to talk to her before he took this meeting.

"Your god is listening," he said, only to be greeted with a laugh.

"You never change," she replied, and she sounded the smallest bit exasperated. "Anyway, I know I just saw you a few minutes ago, but I was talking to Maka, and she was really excited to hear you were back, and she and Soul are free tonight and, well, they were hoping you'd be willing for us all to go out. Kid and the sisters want to come, too— it would be just like old times!"

Pausing to collect his thoughts, he frowned into the phone, glad she couldn't see, then latched onto the one bit that he could handle. "Wait, Maka _and_ Soul are free tonight? So those two are still attached at the fucking hip without the actual fucking part?"

Her nervous titter made him smile. "Wellll, actually, they live together now, and, um– well– I think they are– um– _intimate_ , yes."

"'Bout damn time," he guffawed loudly, earning a glare from the bodyguard lounging at the building entrance. Fucking scrub. "I was pretty sure for awhile there my man Soul was gonna die of blue balls. Whiny little fucker had it so bad I'm pretty sure he'd have eaten literal shit for her if she asked nicely. Hell, even if she didn't."

Tsubaki was laughing breathily on the other end of the phone, even as she reprimanded, "Black*Star! Those are our friends, be nice." _Our friends_. He'd missed the sound of that. "Anyway, they decided to get an apartment together when they started college, and I think things just _happened_ really fast—"

"Pshyeah, Maka strutting around in a towel after she showers– 'cause she does that shit– wasn't gonna be long– shit was ready to boil over two years ago, like damn," he chortled.

"Wait, how do you even–" Tsubaki began, sounding a bit shocked, before letting a loud breath into the speaker and sighing. "Doesn't matter. The point is, they've been dating a couple of months and they're really happy—"

"-—Cause blue ball rage is a thing," he put in and she snorted.

"Okay, yes, they've been way more relaxed since the weekend after they moved in together and they announced they were dating, happy?"

"Nah, I'd rather not think about them bumping uglies, but shit, it had to happen. Continue."

"So, _anyway,_ " she went on, exasperated. "We'd all really like it if you'd go out with us tonight. We were thinking of meeting at Reapers at 8 if that's okay?"

Aw, shit, this again. And 8? Clearly Kid was as fucking weird as ever. He wasn't ready to face them, wanted to keep them all far from his shit, but hell. _Hell._ His minions had clearly missed his light in their lives, craved his glowing ass like a drunk craved jaeger, and he was a god after all— if he could keep Baki out of the shit, then he could keep the rest of them out, too— and fuck she sounded so damned _hopeful_. Well, what kind of god would he be if he let her down?

"Yeah, okay. Reapers at 8. I'll be there."

He clicked the phone off before he could hear her response, squared his shoulders, and went off to meet with the gang boss.

Keeping his loyal minions safe and owning the Clan to rise to fucking godhood?

Ignoring the any niggling doubts that he might or might not have, he flashed a maniacal grin at the door guard, who looked wary at his passing.

 _Hell yeah_ , he thought as he entered the building. He was the biggest damned star around— he was god enough to do it all.

* * *

 **A/N-** Oh really, Black*Star? You sure about that?


	3. Discovery

Being back in touch with Blake— no, _Black*Star_ , since he still insisted on his ridiculous Clan name— was wonderful. It wasn't quite like it had been before, because they had both changed. She had been forced to accept her own limitations, and she was introspective enough to know that she wasn't the same person she'd been when she was fifteen. And Black*Star…

He was somehow both harder and softer than he was before, a little more foul-mouthed and a lot less carefree, and his eyes had shadows that she tried not to see.

But he'd gotten a new pair of split-sole slippers, was working on breaking them in, and dancing with him felt just as fulfilling as it had before. Maybe more so, because he was so much taller… and so much stronger. Blake had always been muscular for his age, but _Black*Star_ could pick her up with one hand if the leverage was right. It was different. It was impressive. It was an _incredible_ turn-on.

It wasn't hard to see that he'd spent most of the time he'd been incarcerated working out. He had muscles packed on like a gay porn star and it was going to make her resolve to remain platonic with him—at least for now— very difficult. She knew it was for the best, of course she did. She wanted to get to know him again, to see if he was still the kind-hearted boy she remembered under the rougher exterior he wore now, before she got in over her head with him.

It somewhat helped her resolve that she couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something. He didn't seem to want to go out with their friends nearly as often as someone as astonishingly extroverted as he was ordinarily would. It was one thing for Soul and Maka to decline an invitation to come out for the evening, firstly because they weren't nearly as social as Blake, Soul especially, and secondly because their relationship was still new enough that they were thoroughly wrapped up in each other. But for Blake to repeatedly turn down offers to hang out, it wasn't natural. If he was only hanging out with them every so often, she could only assume he was incredibly bored the rest of the time… or he was doing something else.

She supposed there was always the possibility that he had more friends than just their old gang, but she couldn't imagine _who_. Their little group had been his only "true minions," as he would say before he was arrested, so he couldn't have any other old friends he was seeing again. It also seemed too soon for him to have made new friends that were worth seeing four nights out of every seven at the expense of his other friendships.

Well, maybe he'd picked up a TV addiction while in the detention center. It would probably be good for him to have a quiet hobby, she thought happily, satisfied for the moment with that pleasant idea.

Besides, he did seem calmer than before. Well… maybe calmer wasn't quite the right word. _Quieter_ fit better. He still gave off that aura of a taut wire, just plucked and vibrating, but it was contained under his skin now, pressurized rather than bubbling out in childish antics and a too-loud voice. She wondered occasionally if that was good for him, but he seemed to be fine, so she was resolved not to worry about it. Liz was always telling her she worried too much, so this ought to be a good opportunity to practice letting go of things she couldn't control.

The idea that he might be back to working with the Star Clan never even crossed her mind. He'd said he wasn't, after all.

* * *

That happy delusion was shattered three months after their reunion.

"Hey, Billy, another round for the table!" Liz called, gesturing to the barkeep.

Kilik leaned in close and whispered, "Can you even afford to buy another round?"

Liz shook her head. "Nah. I'm putting it on Kid's tab," she murmured back, so close to him her lips nearly touched his ear.

Tsubaki let out a little snort of laughter and turned her eyes back to the rest of the table. It was that time of night when the little bar-and-grill that was their group's preferred hangout spot was busy but not _crowded_ , and they could talk to each other without having to shout. It wasn't a full group tonight— Kid had to work, Patti was studying for her finals, and Kim and Jackie were… she didn't know where Kim and Jackie were, and she wasn't sure she wanted to— but it was nice nonetheless. With Soul and Maka trying (and failing) to "subtly" hold hands across the table, and Liz and Kilik's far more successful attempts at tacit flirting, it really felt like a couple's outing.

She glanced at Blake, seated next to her and shoving mozzarella sticks in his mouth alarmingly quickly, and sighed. It would have been so much more convenient if her willful heart had chosen less of a slob to fall for. But Tsubaki had always been the kind of girl to play the hand she was dealt, so she instead focused on the fact that he at least seemed to have learned to keep his mouth shut while he chewed… _finally_.

"So Liz," Blake said, once he had swallowed a wad of cheese the size of his fist, "What's this I hear about you hosting a party to celebrate the return of my awesomeness?"

Liz turned away from Kilik to give him a cuttingly dry look. "It's a _graduation party_ for _Patti_ , asshole. You've been back for months, we're not about to throw you a party _now_."

He snorted. "Tchyeah, sure. You say that, but we all know that _every_ party is a Black*Star party!"

Maka apparently disagreed, because at that precise moment, she lobbed a napkin holder directly into Blake's face. Tsubaki had to admit, she was impressed with Maka's accuracy, since Soul still had possession of her dominant hand.

She offered Blake a dampened napkin to press over the eye Maka had pegged, but he waved it away, one hand clapped over half his face as he let out a string of horrifying curses that had people at other tables looking over disapprovingly. Tsubaki gave apologetic looks to the other patrons as she laid a hand on Blake's (very nice-feeling) upper arm to try and quiet him down.

At that moment, his phone buzzed, interrupting his invectives against Maka. Still clutching his wounded eye, he fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the message.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Blake?" she asked softly.

He looked up and for just a moment his eyes were honest and full of an expression she couldn't interpret. Then his gaze was back to the usual glassy brightness and he was leaping out of his seat. "Alright, minions! I regret that you all have to be deprived of my glorious presence, but godly business calls me away!"

"What kind of 'godly business?'" Liz asked skeptically. "Last I heard you were still broke and unemployed and crashing on Harvar's couch."

"Shows what you know," he proclaimed, thumbing his nose at her. "The great Black*Star has a _job interview!_ "

Liz rolled her eyes but let it rest. After a wave of goodbyes, Blake turned to go, leaving Tsubaki suddenly feeling distinctly like a fifth wheel.

Tsubaki was not the kind of girl who tended towards self-pity, but right at that moment, she might have been tempted to indulge in some if she hadn't spotted Blake's wallet on the floor beneath his chair. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he stood up so suddenly. She bent down to retrieve it and turned to call him back, but the door had already slammed shut behind him.

She sighed. "I'll be right back, guys," she called. Kilik raised a hand in acknowledgement, for which she was grateful, because Liz was digging around in her purse and Maka was too busy feeding Soul a slice of pizza to realize she was going anywhere.

Clutching Blake's wallet, Tsubaki jogged over to the door and stepped out onto the rain-soaked sidewalk. It was easy to pick out his distinctive hair across the street, and moved to follow him.

"Blake!" she called out to him, but even as she did so, he slid into the passenger seat of a silver SUV.

She stopped dead at the sight of the car, because it looked much too familiar. Uncertain, she leaned out toward the curb a bit to catch sight of the license plate: C L A Y. She shook her head, denying the evidence, but when the car pulled from its parking spot and went screeching past her and she caught sight of the driver, any attempts at pretending she hadn't seen anything were out of her power.

The vehicle Blake had stepped into was being driven by her brother's long-time lackey, Akane Hoshi.

Tsubaki stood there in the dark and the drizzle, frozen between the bumpers of two parallel-parked cars, staring at the crimson taillights as they disappeared down the street, clutching the wallet of a stranger.

* * *

Masamune's house was _sweet_. One of the perks of being top dog in the Star Clan was the pay. The boss took half the profit from everyone's jobs, and all that cash meant a house that looked like it should belong to a music producer. The kind of house that was fitting for a god.

If being the boss had the perk of major cheddar, then being the boss's right-hand man had the perk of grabbing a few beers with the boss after a job. Black*Star was feeling pretty damn good with the world and everything in it as they approached Masamune's pad…

...until they got out of the car and saw Tsubaki sitting on the step, with a look in her eyes that did not bode well for his godly gonads.

Black*Star gulped.


	4. Ultimatum

**A/N-** Time for Tsubaki to lay down the law? Or nah?

* * *

"Masamune," Tsubaki hissed out between clenched teeth, eyes glued to Black*Star, not even glancing at her brother, "would you please excuse us for a minute?"

"What, you've come all the way here to visit me and I don't even get a proper greeting?" Masamune said, in that mocking tone he'd picked up somewhere on the road to the sharp, cold man he was these days..

She spared a single cutting glance for him. "The reason I came here was to ask you about _him_. Since he's here now, I really don't need to talk to you at all, Masamune." She marched over to Black*Star, who was standing stock-still with an uncharacteristic look of panic on his face. "You and I have a few things to talk about," she said sternly, and, channeling her inner Maka, she seized the back of his collar and physically dragged him away from Masamune.

Despite Black*Star's protests and the difficulty he seemed to be having walking backwards, she didn't stop until they were several streets away at the edge of the public park that housed the D.C. Botanical Gardens. She pushed him onto a park bench and he went down easily; it wasn't a testament to her strength, but a sign of respect for her, which mollified her slightly. But only _slightly_.

She paced back and forth in front of him, fists clenched at her sides. She felt as though she had acid in her veins, a furious stinging anger that boiled through her and threatened to leak out her eyes. But she bit it down, because she had things to say and none of them would be helped by tears.

"'Baki…" Black*Star said weakly.

"No!" she shouted, stopping in her tracks and whirling to face him. "You don't talk right now! What can you possibly say for yourself? No, don't answer that!"

"That doesn't make sense," he muttered petulantly, crossing his arms.

She resisted the urge to kick him. "I knew you weren't being completely honest with me, but I never thought you were doing something like this again— and _don't_ try to tell me you aren't. I saw you with Akane tonight. You're involved with the Star Clan again, aren't you?"

"So what if I am?"

The temptation to physically attack him increased tenfold. "How could you? You _lied_ to me, Black*Star!"

It was telling, she thought, how he flinched when she called him by that epithet. It was a name he had chosen for himself, a name he insisted on going by, but coming from her, he reacted as if he had been slapped. As painful as it was to call him by his street name, his reaction gave her hope that maybe, _just maybe_ , he wasn't too far gone to reason with.

The revelation did nothing to calm the fury she felt, but it gave her an opening to pursue, a direction in which to channel her anger, and that in itself was a relief. She had never been comfortable with anger for its own sake. It wasn't an emotion that she wore well or one that came naturally to her. But passionate feeling with a purpose driving it… _that_ fit more easily. She pulled it around her like a warm coat, a shelter that numbed her to the chilly drizzle that still fell around them.

"You had a fresh start, Black*Star," she said pleadingly. "You didn't have to get caught back up in all this stuff! You're better than this."

"You're damn right I am!" he proclaimed. "When I'm the boss, the Star Clan's going to be different, none of this gang-banger bullshit, and—"

"And what if you get caught before that happens?" she interrupted. "What if you get thrown in jail for real this time? I don't want to watch you get ripped out of my life again."

"Tsubaki…" he said, the wind taken frighteningly easily from his sails.

She sighed, staring at the ground to avoid meeting the eyes she knew had gone soft as he looked at her. "The Blake I knew didn't lie to his friends. Didn't lie to _me_."

"I just wanted to keep you guys safe, _especially_ you! A god protects his followers! The only way to do that was to keep you out of it."

She shook her head sadly. "Why don't _you_ get out of the loop instead? Then _everyone's_ safe, including you."

That lit a fire back under him again, and he jumped to his feet, eyes blazing as she looked up, startled at his sudden movement. "You just don't get it, do you?" he demanded. "It's my destiny to take over the Star Clan!"

"Says _who?_ "

"Says—" He stopped, clearly stymied. "Says… says _me_ , that's who." He sank back down on the bench.

Tsubaki settled gingerly beside him. "There are a lot of paths to godhood, Blake," she said, hoping speaking in his idiom might help him really hear her. "You don't have to choose a violent one, an _illegal_ one. I know you, or at least I thought I did, and I believe you're better than this."

A silence descended between them, and she became very afraid that she'd failed to get through to him. She was very certain that if she didn't cut this off now, she would never be able to, and she would lose him. She had no idea what she would do if that was the case. Losing him once had been painful and difficult, but losing him for good…

"Do you love me?"

She whipped around to look at him. " _What?_ " It was the last question she had _ever_ expected to hear from him, let alone at this particular moment.

For someone ordinarily so confident, he looked surprisingly vulnerable. "Do you love me?" he repeated. "And not as, like, a friend or any of that mushy stuff. I mean… well, you know what I mean."

She felt frozen and oddly fragile, and she was terrified of giving the wrong answer. "Does it matter?" she asked hesitantly.

"I think so," he said slowly.

"Then—" She swallowed hard, took a shaky breath, and tried again. "Then I can't tell you right now. I don't want to be the only reason you leave, _or_ the reason you stay. It's got to be your own decision."

She could see that it wasn't the answer he had wanted, but he nodded, accepting it.

"I'm going to go now," she said. "I left my car back at Masamune's house."

"Okay."

Tsubaki got to her feet, arms wrapped across her midsection as if she were trying to hold herself together. "It might be best if you don't come to the studio until you've made a decision." It was the closest thing to an ultimatum she was capable of issuing.

She walked away, and she didn't look back. No matter how badly she wanted to.

* * *

It wasn't a big job, really, just a simple smash-and-grab of the kind they'd done a hundred times before. It shouldn't even be a big deal, but his skin was _crawling_. It felt different from nerves— and besides, he'd gotten over tweaking during jobs years ago. But now he was jumpy and uncomfortable, and he had the overwhelming urge to just… well, not run, because gods didn't run off with their tails between their legs, but he sure as shit didn't want to stay here. He didn't want to be a part of this.

Which was fucking stupid to begin with, because he wasn't even _doing_ anything this time, he was stuck on watch duty. It was probably Tsubaki's fault, because Masamune, despite being a _royal fucking ass_ , still had a soft spot for his little sister. Pissing her off had landed Black*Star on the boss's shit list, and it was not a fun place to be.

None of this was fun, to be honest. Once upon a time, it had been a real thrill, running around with older guys, knowing they respected him, respected his daring and his godliness and his ability to give not one single fuck. Somehow, though, it all felt pretty _been there, done that_ lately. Ever since he got out of juvie, really.

He hissed out a curse under his breath and kicked at the brick wall of the building he was skulking around, and immediately regretted it. He was pretty sure he had chipped a toenail even through his boots. Tsubaki was going to kill him the next time they practiced…

 _Were_ they going to practice again? He'd been trying not to think about it all week, how weird it felt not to show up at the studio in the afternoon, how damn much he missed it. Because yeah, okay, _fine_. He hadn't just missed 'Baki while he was in lockup. He had missed the dancing, too. He'd pushed it away, pushed _her_ away, because that was what he had to do to make it with the Star Clan. The guys weren't gonna respect anybody who spent half his time in a leotard, even if he _was_ on the fast track to godhood. Assholes could be narrow-minded like that.

But his friends— his _real_ friends— had never thought that way. Never. He could dance _and_ be their glorious leader, he didn't have to choose with them.

And 'Baki…

"Shit," he muttered again, and this time he punched the bricks, feeling only momentary satisfaction as his knuckles split against sharp stone.

"You okay?"

He glanced up at the dark-haired guy standing watch with him. Akane leaned against the building, a cigarette lit and dangling from his fingers but nowhere close to his lips, watching him with that look like he knew more than everybody else.

He _hated_ that look. "The fuck are you lookin' at?"

Akane raised an eyebrow, looking insufferably smug behind those stupid smart-guy glasses of his. "You look like you're getting cold feet, Black*Star."

Fuck this. He was done.

Without a word he turned and walked away, hands in his pockets and head high.

"Where are you going?" Akane called after him. "Black*Star? Black*Star!"

He whirled around. He didn't intend to look back, but he needed to look the other man _dead in the eyes_ for this. "My name is _Blake,_ " he shouted at the top of his lungs. And shit did it feel good to say.

Three blocks away, he paused for a moment when he heard the police sirens. A grin crossed his face. Looked like bailing was a good idea for more reason than one reason. With a cheerful heart, he sauntered down the road in the direction of Harvar's place.

He should have known it wouldn't be that easy, but somehow he still wasn't expecting Akane and six other guys to corner him the next day.


	5. Lance

The shadow that moved when Tsubaki opened the door to her apartment made her drop her bag with an undignified squeak. When she clicked on the light and saw that it was only her brother, she didn't really feel comforted.

"What are you doing here?" she asked coldly. "And how did you get in here?"

He chuckled. "I have my ways, little sister."

" _What are you doing here?_ " She didn't have the patience to play along with her brother's games. It had been another day of barely paying attention in the studio, giving her students less than they deserved because her eyes kept wandering to the door, hoping that any minute, Blake would walk through it. She missed his bright grin, and the enthusiasm that inspired her own drive and energy.

"Nice to see you, too," he said wryly. "I just thought you should know that your little friend Black*Star seems to have decided he's too _good_ for the Star Clan."

Her heart leapt. "Really?"

"Yep."

The split second of elation fizzled as quickly as it had come. "Why are you the one telling me this?" she asked. "Where is he?"

Masamune grinned, studying his nails, the picture of nonchalance. "Oh, he left pretty abruptly in the middle of a pretty important job last night. Quite a few of our mutual friends were arrested. I believe Akane wanted to have a few words with him about it."

She felt her blood run cold. 'Having a few words' never meant anything good when it came to the Star Clan. "Where is he?" she asked again, tersely.

"I think they were going for a walk out south of town. Near the old steel mill, you know the place. It used to be a favored hangout of his, if I recall."

Tsubaki wasn't sure she had ever cursed in her life, but at the moment, she felt like she could quite easily swear a blue streak.

"Get out of my apartment," she ordered, glaring fiercely at Masamune.

"If that's what you really want," he said, and he sauntered through the door she held open pointedly.

She slammed the door closed behind him and leaned up against it, eyes closed. So Blake really had done the right thing… and he was probably getting beaten to within an inch of his life— or worse— because of it.

She had to do something. She couldn't just sit here and worry about it.

As she traded her soft flats in for her sturdiest pair of boots and tied her long hair up to keep it out of her face, she couldn't help but wonder if that was exactly why Masamune had told her.

* * *

Tsubaki found him lying face down in the dirt at the edge of the desert. He had blood dripping down his face from a head wound that she hoped desperately wasn't as bad as it looked, and he had bruises and vicious cuts across most of his visible skin. His shirt was ripped and he wasn't moving.

She dropped to her knees beside him, hands hovering over him, too afraid to touch him in case she hurt him worse than he already was. She knew plenty about doctoring foot and leg problems, but very little about first aid for more serious injuries.

"Blake?" she called softly. "Blake, can you hear me?"

One hazy green eye popped open and, with a bit of squinting, managed to focus on her. "That you, 'Baki?"

"Hey," she said softly, eyes stinging with relieved tears. "Do you think you can stand?"

He scrunched up his face thoughtfully. "'Course," he said hoarsely. "But I'll let you help me if it will make you feel better."

She let out a choked, watery laugh. Even beaten within an inch of his life, Blake was still Blake. "Yeah, let's get you up."

He gritted his teeth as she gently lifted him up, and the way he clutched at his ribs made her suspect that he might have cracked a few of them, but he didn't make a sound. It didn't surprise her; he'd always had an astonishingly high pain tolerance. She noted worriedly that he was favoring one leg, and hoped for both their sakes that he hadn't broken an ankle.

Slowly, trying not to jostle him too badly, she pulled his arm around her shoulders, supporting him on the side with the bad leg. "Let's go, that's it," she said encouragingly. "My car's just up the road in the parking lot and then we can get you to a doctor."

He nodded. "Probably gonna need a couple band-aids."

She laughed again, and felt a little less like crying. "Masamune told me where to find you," she said.

"Really?" He seemed genuinely astonished. "Guess he's less of a dirtbag than I thought."

"Guess so."

They stumbled along in silence for a few more yards before Tsubaki confessed softly, "I was really scared for you."

"Psh. Like those guys could have brought a star like me down," he mumbled, sounding just a bit delirious. "Idiots only brought seven guys to fight me. I'd've put the whole bunch of them six feet under if they hadn't caught me with my back turned."

She couldn't have stopped herself from rolling her eyes if she had tried, but she was smiling. If he was still talking like that, he had to be okay, right?

"Y'should see them, though," he said, pulling to a halt after stumbling on an uneven patch of ground. "Put half of 'em in the hospital. Guess they ran off to hide from my awesomeness while I was napping."

"Uh-huh, I can see that. Let's keep moving, okay?"

They were almost to his car before he spoke again. "I love you, by the way," he said. "Always have. S'why I got out. Doesn't matter if you love me or not, but I do, so. There ya go."

"Blake, you idiot," she said quietly, and the tears really did fall this time. "I love you, too."

* * *

 **A/N-** And all we have left is a brief epilogue...


	6. Epilogue

It took two months for Blake to fully recover from his injuries, the cracked ribs especially. Thankfully, though, his ankle had not been broken after all, and once he was back on his feet, he insisted, to her delight, that they resume dance practice. He was still rusty, but with daily practice, he was getting more sure of his steps every day.

During his recovery, Tsubaki had insisted on removing him from Harvar's futon and bringing him home to her apartment, and somehow he had simply never left. It felt so natural to have him there, as if he had been there all along, and even once he was back on his feet, he simply didn't leave.

Their relationship was strange and undefined for what felt like an eternity. They had confessed their feelings, they lived together, but nothing more than that. Possibly. Tsubaki wasn't sure. It seemed like they might be dating, except without the especially fun bits. She would have been worried that he wasn't attracted to her except for the fact that he kept "accidentally" walking in on her while she was showering.

The tension continued to rise between them for weeks until finally, in the midst of one of their practice sessions, Tsubaki simply turned around in his arms and kissed him. And just like that, things had been settled between them, and as naturally as their confessions and cohabitation had occurred, so did the consummation of their fledgling relationship.

And now here they stood, staring at the doors beyond which waited the admissions board of the DCC's dance program, there to judge whether they were worthy of the advanced training at the conservatory.

Tsubaki glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"Are you kidding? A big star like me? I was _born_ ready!"

She took his hand and felt his fingers trembling, and smiled. "Let's go, then."

With their free hands they pushed open the doors, and stepped forward to meet their destiny.

* * *

 **A/N-** Well, if you've stuck with us this long, ProMa and I would like to thank you for your attention. We both love feedback, so any reviews you have time or inclination to leave are much appreciated!


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